


Overexcited

by MoanDiary



Series: Together Alone [4]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 19:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20569304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary
Summary: On the definitive list Lucifer gives Chloe enumerating his sexual fantasies about her, #23 reads simply “Too many vibrators!”





	Overexcited

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [All Thumbs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481860) by [MoanDiary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary). 

_On the definitive list Lucifer gives Chloe enumerating his sexual fantasies about her, #23 reads simply “Too many vibrators!”_

* * *

“I can’t say I’m surprised, Lucifer, but you’ve got quite the collection.”

“Well, I’m a firm believer in using the right tool for the job, Detective. And you can never have too many vibrators.” 

“Isn’t that the point of the exercise?”

“You can _ use _ too many, but you can’t _ own _ too many.” 

The power strip along the back of what Chloe has come to describe as Lucifer’s “sex toy cabinet” (if he wanted to be picky he’d argue it’s more of an armoire in terms of size) is host to at least twenty vibrators of every shape and size, each fully charged and standing at the ready like faithful soldiers.

“So which ones do you want to use?” She asks, eyeing the selection.

“Whichever strike your fancy. I know for a fact that all can be put to good use.”

“Lucifer, this is from _ your _ list, you get to decide.”

He shoots her a quick, nervous sidelong glance. From the way she cocks her head, he can tell she catches it. “You know, you’re under no obligation if you’re not interested—”

She puts a reassuring hand on his forearm and smiles up at him. “I wouldn’t have picked it if I weren’t interested. Now tell me,” her hand moves up to his chest and she presses in close to him, tilting her head up until her mouth is a breath away from his. “What’s the fantasy?”

He lets out a shuddering breath. “I’m..._ helpless _ and you’re teasing me. Torturing me. Increasing the intensity until it’s too much. Until I beg for it.”

She lets out a deep breath and taps a finger thoughtfully on his chest. “Do you want to be restrained?”

“Well, there’s nothing in here that could well and truly stop me if I wanted to get free, short of maybe a heavy length of steel chain and that statue on the balcony,” he nods his head towards one of his favorite decorations. “But it might be nice to have something to remind me to stay in place.”

He rummages in the cabinet until he finds what he was looking for, a good length of silken rope. “Ah yes, this should do!”

“Okay, then let’s get that squared away first.” Chloe takes the rope from him and runs it through her hand appraisingly. “Why don’t you take your clothes off and lie down on the bed?”

Lucifer immediately leaps to obey, feeling his heart rate pick up at the prospect of what’s about to happen, sneaking glances at Chloe between discarding items of clothing. She’s watching him like a hawk with an inscrutable expression, a slight smile on her lips, and the rope held taut between her hands. He regrets not thinking about costuming for this particular scenario ahead of time. She would look stunning in a pair of thigh-high boots.

When he’s naked he pads back into the bedroom, Chloe at his heels, and arranges himself in the center of the bed, arms crossed at the wrist over his head. “You’ll find a sturdy metal bracket just there, Detective.” He points to the wall above the headboard.

Chloe nods, slowly climbs onto the foot of the bed, and proceeds to crawl over him, clothed limbs occasionally skimming his bare skin. Each point of contact feels hyper-sensitized. He can’t look away from her eyes or the predatory expression on her face as she draws even with him. She is..._ breathtaking _. She dips down to kiss him, hot and open-mouthed and all-too-brief. When she draws away he tries to follow her but she presses him firmly back down onto the bed and turns her attention to his restraints, straddling his stomach to unwind the rope and feed it through the loop.

She ties each end of the rope to a wrist with a confidence and efficiency that speaks of _ experience _ and, oh _my_, does it spark fresh curiosity about Daniel. 

She glances down at him and her face breaks into a wry grin. “What are you smiling about?”

“Oh, it’s that I knew you’d be good at this, but I didn’t realize just how little instruction you’d need.” He knows he must look smitten. He’s beginning to understand that might just be how his face is now, permanently.

“I’ll have you know I’ve had _ plenty _ of sex,” she scoffs. “Just...tons of it.”

He hums skeptically and is briefly disappointed as she climbs off of him and walks back into the closet.

She’s gone for longer than he expects. His sharp ears can make out noises from inside the closet. Is she _ testing _ them? A delicious shudder runs down his body and he shifts restlessly, wishing he had something to press his burgeoning erection against. 

“Don’t have too much fun without me, Detective!” He calls, hoping it will entice her to come back, or at least chastise him.

There’s no response, but a few minutes later she appears and he has to bite back what he knows would be a frankly piteous moan.

She’s stripped down to just panties, and not _ her _ panties, but _ his _ — lacy, red, and very expensive — for use when one of his guests needs them or when a bit of crossdressing is called for on his part. Her bare breasts bounce gently as she walks, nipples hard in the air-conditioned room. In her hands she holds three vibrators from his collection that he’s quite familiar with. Her eyes are dark with unmistakable desire and she’s smiling at him wickedly. His brain seems to have mostly ceased to function but he manages to construct the thought that she is possibly the sexiest thing he’s ever seen in the history of the universe. 

“These are nice,” she says, gesturing down at the panties with her head as she strolls casually over to the side of the bed. He nods mutely, staring. “Good to finally know what it takes to render you speechless.”

She slides open the bedside drawer where he keeps his lubricant selection and rummages around. “Water-based are on the left,” he says faintly. She selects a bottle and places it next to the vibrators, which she’s lined up neatly on the pillow nearest her.

“So,” she turns to him, businesslike, casting an appraising glance down his body. “Looks like you’ve been getting a little excited in my absence.”

“You took your bloody time,” he replies. He’s achingly hard and she hasn’t even touched him yet.

She hums in agreement, looking thoughtful. “You won’t come until I give you permission,” she says mildly, in the same tone of voice that she would remark on some banal detail of a case.

“Yes,” he breathes. He didn’t realize it was possible to _ get _ any harder.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I won’t come until you tell me to.”

She smiles. “Good!” 

She grabs one of his spare pillows and taps on his hip, gesturing for him to lift up so she can slide it under him. He complies, spreading his legs and licking his lips in anticipation of what she’s planning. She settles between his knees and then leans back over him to retrieve the first vibrator and the lube, bringing her breast in tantalizing proximity to his face. He surges up to capture one nipple in his mouth, and she freezes as he gives it a firm suck. She bites her lip and reluctantly pulls away.

“That’s not part of this,” she chastises halfheartedly.

Lucifer pouts. “It’s _my_ fantasy, isn’t it, Detective?”

“Yeah, but you put me in charge.”

He smirks. “I certainly did.”

She sits back on her heels, popping the cap on the lube and pouring a generous amount into her hand.

“Ready?”

“Never more so.”

She brings her slick hand between his legs, avoiding his erection entirely and sliding it from his balls down his perineum to his asshole, pressing and massaging gently. A low moan escapes him and he spreads his legs wider. Her finger circles him before pressing gently inside, stretching him open. 

“You could—ah—go a bit faster, Detective.”

“I could,” she agrees, her pace unvarying. After a few moments, she adds another slick finger, pushing them further inside, crooking them and just barely grazing his prostate. His presses his hips towards her eagerly, but she draws away and out of him, her attention turning to the first vibrator.

It’s one of his favorites. Silicone, two motors, with two bulbous arms arranged at a bit less than a 90-degree angle relative to each other. Perfect for internal and external stimulation. With several different modes _ and _ a remote control. She covers it with an ample amount of lube and returns to him, pressing one end into him. He takes it easily with a pleased moan as it comes to rest inside him. She twists it a little to straighten it and make sure the outer arm is pressed firmly against the flesh behind his balls.

He doesn’t have a good vantage on what’s happening between his legs, so he watches her face instead. She is very intent on her work, driven and focused in that way she gets when watching a suspect for tells or staring at a list of disconnected clues on a whiteboard. He’s not sure how he’ll be able to get through a day at work without incident after this. 

“You ready?” She looks up at him expectantly. He nods, his breath quickening. She turns her attention to the remote and suddenly it’s buzzing at what he is _ 100% certain is the maximum setting _—

He yelps, hips jerking up off the bed, and the vibration instantly abates.

“Oops,” she says, grinning. “Sorry.”

“You don’t look very sorry,” he gasps accusingly.

She shrugs, and the vibration resumes, gently this time, a humming, pulsing throb. He relaxes into it, letting the pleasure slowly ratchet up. She watches him avidly, eyes darting across his writhing body as she experiments with the settings, gradually increasing the intensity. He puts on a little bit of a show for her. Not that his pleasure is inauthentic, but she deserves _ some _ reward for her good work. He wraps his fists around the ropes binding him and lets his muscles flex and roll with the waves of pleasure radiating out from inside him. The only thing that betrays her appreciation is her tongue darting out to moisten her lips a few times, like she’s considering devouring him whole. _ Please do _, he thinks.

Eventually she lands on a speed that seems to be having the desired effect on him. It’s in the middle in terms of intensity, a driving, intermittent pulse that crescendos to something just on the edge of too much before relenting, and she drops that remote and reaches for the second vibrator.

It’s a small but powerful thing. Hand-held, bullet-shaped. Only a couple of speed settings. She flips it on without much ado and crawls up to lay beside him. He turns his head to watch her.

“Hey,” she murmurs.

“Hello,” he purrs. By the stars, he wants to kiss her so badly.

Instead, she raises the vibrator and runs it lightly across his parted lips. He lets out a trembling sigh at the sensation and very deliberately licks it from end to end. Chloe watches, wide-eyed and lets him suck the vibrator and her fingertips into his mouth all at once. He moans as she slowly pulls it free, running it across his cheek, behind his ear, down his neck, targeting all the spots she knows make him squirm. It’s a small point of intense sensation, made all the sharper by the continuing pulse between his legs. 

She circles one nipple, lightly, then abruptly presses it to him hard and his eyes slam shut. He remembers frantically that he’s not allowed to come until she gives him permission, which is hilarious because she hasn’t even touched his cock yet. He’s not optimistic about his prospects once she does.

“You’re doing so well,” she whispers in his ear, and _ that _ certainly isn’t helping anything.

He swallows convulsively as she abandons that nipple in favor of the other, teasing it in a similar fashion. After a few more moments, she sits up again, says “Here, hold this for me,” and pops the vibrator, still buzzing, between his lips. He snorts a laugh but eyes her apprehensively as she turns her attention to the third and final device.

It’s shaped like a curved saddle about the size of his hand, one side open, the silicone thinner and flexible there, and thicker on the opposite side, where the motor is. It’s one of the few vibrators designed for this purpose he’s been able to find that can accommodate him comfortably. Chloe retrieves the lubricant again and pours an ample amount into its interior before turning her attention to his neglected penis, which has been leaking continuously onto his stomach ever since she put her fingers inside him.

He braces himself for the onslaught of sensation as she slips it onto him, able to watch only for a moment before he’s forced to close his eyes in order to keep himself in check. He casts about desperately for the least erotic thing he can think of. Being cast out of Heaven. Dad. Mum. Staticky cat hair coating his suit. The children’s section of a library. The prospect of being trapped in Hell for—oh dear, what’s she doing? She’s sliding it slowly up and down his length to make sure it’s slick all the way around. He can feel his arms trembling and hear the rope creaking from how hard he’s pulling on it in an attempt to keep himself in check. He realizes he’s clenching his teeth on the bullet vibrator still in his mouth from the vibrations traveling up his jaw.

And then she turns it on.

He emits a muffled, anguished cry as the thing begins to pulse. In combination with the pressure against his prostate, it’s overwhelming. His heels slide desperately on the silk sheets, his legs thrashing, seeking some kind of relief or escape from the sensation.

Chloe has one hand on the vibrator on his cock, holding it in place, but she lifts the other to his face, stroking it soothingly. His eyes snap open and fix on her desperately, anchoring himself to her like a life preserver on a stormy sea.

“Shhh, not much longer now,” she no longer sounds unaffected, her voice taking on a throatiness he knows well. She straddles him again and when one of his restlessly shifting legs comes up and presses against her, he distantly realizes there’s something vibrating between _ her _ legs too, underneath his $400 couture lingerie. She slips one hand inside the waistband of the panties and retrieves a small remote control, then pries open the fingers of one of his fists and deposits it there.

“Here,” she gasps. “You’re in charge of this.”

While he attempts to make sense of the buttons on a vibrator remote he can’t see while simultaneously struggling to avoid an orgasm approaching like an oncoming freight train, she turns up the intensity on both of the two devices currently torturing his nether regions until they’re humming away loudly and continuously. He nearly swallows the one in his mouth in shock and settles for spitting it out with a cry instead.

He gives up on trying to puzzle out the remote in his hand and just picks the button that’s his best guess and presses it desperately several times. Chloe makes a choked noise and jolts forward, landing with her full weight on his cock, pinning it between the vibrator and his stomach, her hands braced on his chest.

Her weight pressing on him increases the intensity of the sensation—impossibly—again. She lets out a whimper and throws her head back, gasping and shivering, her back arching, and he realizes she’s coming from the force of the vibrator inside her along with the one she’s now pressed against.

“Chloe, please,” he whimpers, trembling with the effort of restraining himself. “Please, please, please, please—”

“Y-yes, you can come, Lucifer.”

And he does, immediately, every muscle drawing taut. He could almost swear he feels his soul leave his body, and he actually knows what that feels like. The vibration continues unabated and his orgasm draws on and on until he feels hollowed-out, oversensitized and twitching against the relentless motion. He whimpers, squirming uncomfortably, and Chloe hurries to turn off the two blasted torture instruments as soon as she notices. 

He hears a rustle of damp silk and lace, then a soft electrical hum, then a distant thump as the humming thing hits the far wall of the room. Chloe collapses onto the bed next to him with a sigh. He can’t remember how one might go about opening one’s eyes, but he’s sure he’ll figure it out eventually.

He thinks he must pass out for a little while, because the next thing he knows, the come on his belly and chest has cooled unpleasantly, the vibrator has slipped off of his spent cock, and Chloe is running a hand absently through his hair. He manages to crack his eyes open and look at her. She beams at him mischievously.

“You think we can mark that one off the list?”

“Indeed,” he croaks. “Mission accomplished, Detective.”


End file.
